


Handle With Care

by sister_dear



Series: Built on Trust [2]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Asthma, Asthma attack, Canon-Typical Violence, Chronic Fatigue, Chronic Illness, Chronic Illness!Sky, Four (Linked Universe)-centric, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Platonic Cuddling, Sky (Linked Universe)-centric, rating for minor language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:09:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28551411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sister_dear/pseuds/sister_dear
Summary: Four lets Sky in on one of his secrets, though the circumstances are not what either of them would have preferred.
Relationships: Four & Sky (Linked Universe)
Series: Built on Trust [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2091690
Comments: 30
Kudos: 272





	Handle With Care

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place the day after Winter Light, but they’re both stand alone stories. You don’t need to read one to follow the other.

The realization hits Sky midway between the castle and the leather workers’ shop. He manages to hold out until he’s found a pair of winter gloves for himself. Lined with fleece, soft and warm, almost like touching a cloud. The leather is supple enough he’ll still be able to keep a good grip on his sword. He pays for them and then gives in to the inevitable, tugging Time into the quietest corner of the shop. 

“I need to go back to the forge.” He delivers this confession to the wall by Time’s shoulder, where goods for sale line the shelves from floor to ceiling, filling the shop with their earthy smell. Sky keeps his head turned away from the room in an attempt to not draw too much attention. Pushing the words past his lips is difficult. A lifetime of being too slow, falling behind and always racing to catch up, tells him to keep them locked behind his teeth. To just push through. But he doesn’t need to, here and now. They aren’t chasing down monsters or trying to make good time to a secure camping spot. They’re only shopping for cold weather supplies, nearly everyone woefully under-equipped to come through the latest portal only to find Four’s Hyrule in the grip of deep winter. 

Sky knew, after putting so much effort towards having fun in the snow yesterday, that there was a good chance he’d feel unwell today. He knew, and did it anyway, and the relaxation and camaraderie was worth it. Worth it even though he woke up that morning with a head full of fog, muscles that trembled as if he moved through mud, and his lower abdomen clenching unpleasantly. He’d forced himself out of bed in order to go into town with the rest of the group. 

Time only nods and turns his head, somehow managing to snag Four’s attention without having to say a word. Time has an impressive presence like that. Four weaves between bodies to their corner. Judicious use of elbows and pointy poking fingers encourages their companions out of his way. It’s a small shop. The nine of them make the place quite crowded. 

“Something wrong?” Four also pitches his voice so it won’t carry beyond the three of them. Four is always careful of other people’s privacy. Sky appreciates that about him. Warmth blooms across his cheeks regardless, spreading to the tips of his ears. 

“No need to be embarrassed.” Time’s low voice weaves under the general chatter of the room.

Sky draws a deep breath, shakes himself into speech. “I need to go back to the forge,” he repeats. The words come only slightly easier the second time. 

Four’s head gives a little jerk, sharp eyes drilling into Sky. “So I was right? You seemed unwell this morning." He treats Sky to a quick once over, as if he can spot fatigue and stomach upset the same as a bloody gash or broken arm. He lingers on the hand Sky is resting over his belt. Perhaps that thought is not too far wrong. "You could have said something.” 

“I wanted to meet your Zelda." A sheepish smile tugs the corners of his lips into a happy expression he doesn't feel. "Sometimes it gets better as the day goes on.” But it hadn't this time, and now he's pulling Four away from a rare visit to his hometown. It makes sense that it be Four. He's the only one of them who doesn't need cold weather things, having raided his own wardrobe just that morning. That doesn't make Sky feel any less guilty. "I can make my own way back."

"That's not a good idea," Time interjects.

“Not when Zelda just told us there have been monster sightings nearby." Four looks to Time. "I’ll hand him over to Grandpa and come right back." 

Time is already turning away, distracted by raised voices from Legend and Warriors. “No need to rush. We’ll manage.”

Outside the shop, the air bites at every bit of exposed skin. Four is snug in his winter gear, but Sky hadn’t held out long enough to find any weather appropriate clothing aside from the gloves. He pulls his sailcloth forward over his shoulders, shivering. “I’m sorry.” Helpless frustration burns through him. Or maybe that’s just the fatigue again, reminding him of his body's general state of disagreement with a fresh wave of sludge. 

Four’s hand flaps through the air, nonchalant waving away of his comment. “Don’t be.” Gentle fingers prod at Sky’s side, growing more insistent until Sky meets his eyes. “I’m glad you said something. The rule of no hiding injuries applies to you too.” 

This isn’t truly an injury, but Sky can’t argue the point. 

Hyrule Town's roads are a treacherous mixture of ice and slick slush. Sky concentrates on his steps, the both of them falling quiet until they’re outside the town gates. Here the cobblestone gives way to packed dirt, still covered in a generous amount of snow. It’s easier to walk on. Sky tries to relax, but the shivers have truly set in and his whole body is aching. The deep breath he tries to take to settle his stomach burns his throat with cold and sets off a coughing fit. His lungs tighten in warning. Sky has to stop. He cups his hands over his mouth and nose, caught between needing more air and the air being far too cold. 

He gets himself under control only to find Four standing close, worry pulling the corners of his eyes down.

"I'm sorry. I don't think this cold air is agreeing with me."

“You shouldn’t have left the forge today.” From anyone else it would be chiding. From Four it’s simply a statement. 

“I know.” Sky fails to fight back a wince. He straightens his posture to cover. The minor breathing episode has made his fatigue ten times worse, and now he’s worrying about actually making it back to the forge. He closes his eyes to gather himself. Four waits for him and only moves when he does, falling into step beside him. 

Their boots crunch through the snow. What at first seemed beautiful now only appears an obstacle. Sky casts about for a distraction. 

“You and Zelda seem good friends.”

“Yes.” Four brushes his fingers over the edge of his shield. “She gave me this, you know. Won it at a festival game, if you’d believe it.” Four launches into the story of how she’d won it, telling it with great enthusiasm and needing little input from Sky. The walk grows shorter as Sky focuses on Four’s words, humming in the right places to encourage him to keep going. He lets his mind grow distant from his body. Four’s words, one foot in front of the other, and before he knows it they’ll be back. 

The road follows the edge of a forest. Bare branches and evergreen boughs droop under the weight of snow. A large field, covered in white, stretches out to their right. Off over the field, the sun finds a few sparse breaks in the clouds and casts bright beams of light down towards the earth, the kind that make you think you could touch them if only you could run far and fast enough to find where they end. Sky latches onto the sight, head turning to follow it, mind lost in an almost pleasant haze. 

_"Sky!”_ Something twangs off Four’s shield. Sky’s entire body jerks. His hand flies to his sword and his head whips around. Too slow. Monsters pour from the woods. Four might have escaped had he been on his own, fast and nimble as he is, but for Sky it’s far too late to run. Wind’s bokoblins swarm onto the road behind and in front of them, backing them up to the thick blanket of snow over the field. Yesterday introduced Sky to the delights the white fluff has to offer. Now he is suddenly, viscerally aware of one of the dangers. The powder over the field is loose and deep. There will be no running through it. They’re cut off. 

Sky spins so his back is to Four’s, tries to shake the fatigued fugue that has fallen over him. He flexes his fingers, Fi singing as he draws her, and then they’re being mobbed. The bokoblins rush in with no regard for their own or their companions’ safety. 

Sky does his best to meet them, but just the effort of drawing his sword is enough to have his lungs tightening again. He struggles from the first downward slash. That single swing is enough to send spots dancing before his eyes. He should have reached for a different weapon. Something less strenuous, something capable of thinning the crowd. It’s too late. He’s being pressed too hard. Strangling bands around his chest warn that he’s about to be in serious trouble. He backs up, catching a blow on his shield. The breath rattles out of his lungs. The world tilts and spins. 

Behind him, Four draws a hiss of air over his teeth and bites off a curse. Four is an experienced swordsman, and familiar with Sky’s fighting style. He knows very well that Sky isn’t holding up to his portion of the fighting. 

Sky turns aside a spear aimed at his chest. His arms are lead, his chest a ring of fire. He sees the next blade coming, struggles to get his shield up. 

A blade impales the bokoblin before it can make contact. Not his own. But he can still hear the clash of metal on metal behind him, someone brushing briefly against his back as they fight. 

Purple. Four. Not Four. Four’s twin? Does Four have a brother? More than one, because a dart of red on his other side launches a bomb into the fray. The extra blades, extra people, begin to turn the tide. Buys them breathing room. Breathing. Hah. The black at the edges of Sky’s vision crawls inwards. He slashes at a bokoblin and winds up on his knees. 

Shouting. Calls of his name. Bodies surround him. A colorful rainbow of tunics hems him in, faced outward. Protecting. Sky clutches at his chest, at his sword. He needs to control his heart rate. Slow his breathing. Too many voices over and above and around him. His lungs are tight. The air is so cold it burns. Every breath is forced back out of him with a whistling sound that wouldn’t be out of place coming from a loftwing. His arms tremble to hold his weight, braced on his knees. He needs to sit up more. Open up his lungs. Snow seeps into his pants where he kneels. He loses track of the fighting, all his attention on an internal mantra of _"Calm down. Slow down. Don’t cough. Just breathe. Steady. You’re fine, you’ve done this before. Slow down and breathe."_

“Here, Sky.” The air around his face grows slightly warmer. He opens his eyes. A fire rod hovers before him, pointed safely to the side. He stares at it, dazed, mesmerized. The person holding it is dressed all in red; the one who threw the bomb earlier. He has Four’s face. They all have Four’s face. 

The warmer air goes down easier; the urge to cough subsides just a fraction. 

A different voice says “Blue, Green, help me get him sitting up some. It'll open his airways.” Hands slide under his shoulders, against his collarbone. Coax his elbows to bend, lift him up and back. There’s someone behind him. Sky leans into them. Loosens his muscles, letting them take his weight. 

“Is this helping at all?” That’s the red one again. He’s flanked by green and purple. The arms in Sky’s peripheral vision are blue. Sky nods once, tries not to listen too closely to the strained noise he makes as he exhales. “Okay. Then we’re fine. We took care of the monsters, we can stay here as long as you need. Just relax.” 

He has so many questions, and doesn’t have the capacity to give voice to any of them. 

It seems questions aren’t needed. The one in front of him gives a shy little wave with the hand not holding the fire rod. “Hi, Sky. We hoped to meet you in better circumstances. I’m Red. That’s Green, this is Violet-” (“Vio, if you please.”) “-and the one behind you is Blue. We’re, uh. We’re Four.”

Sky nods, feels his hair brush Blue’s collar and chin as he does so. Somehow he isn’t surprised. Surely Four would have mentioned having this many twin brothers. He raises his brows. Hopes it comes across as a question rather than a demand or condemnation. 

Green takes over the explanation. “We weren’t always like this. It’s a byproduct of the Four Sword. When Link drew it the first time, it split us.”

“Terribly inconvenient,” adds Vio. 

“He means it was a completely shitty experience,” Blue grumbles. 

“But without it, we wouldn’t be here,” Red puts in. 

“It has its advantages.” That is a diplomatic sidestep if Sky has ever heard one. “It’s easier now that we have better control over it.”

Four’s aversion to magic swords now makes a terrible amount of sense. Sky finds the nearest arm and pats it. Vio looks a little uncertain, but he puts his hand over Sky’s and holds it there. 

“Enough about us.” Blue’s growl rumbles into Sky’s back. “There shouldn’t have been monsters like that here. Not this close to town.”

“I suppose this means we can confirm the strange monster sightings for Zelda.”

“Closer than she thought. A lot closer. We need to warn her.”

The conversation goes on, the short discussion enough for Sky to begin picking out the differences between them. And there are differences. Various aspects of Four’s personality, brought front and center. Vio has his intellectualism, Blue his protectiveness. Sky thinks Green might be the part of Four that most embodies the courage they are all known for. And Red is definitely displaying his emotional intelligence, watching Sky as closely as a Loftwing looking out for an inexperienced rider. He’s the first to notice when Sky’s lungs finally let go. He gives Sky a sweet smile as Sky takes the first of several long, deep breaths. Blue notices next, with Sky leaning against him as he is. Sky feels the jerk of his chin as he cuts off the other two. 

“Better?”

Sky inhales again before he answers, keeps his response short. “Yes.”

“We’ve seen you have trouble sometimes, but never that bad.”

“It's” Sky pauses for a breath. “...been a while.” Skyloft gets very cold, but the air on the Surface is just so heavy. The two in combination do not appear to agree with him.

Violet gives voice to his thoughts. “Denser air at the lower altitude, plus the cold, plus you were already unwell.” He shakes his head. “We’ll have to take steps to make sure that doesn’t happen again.” His hand is still folded over Sky’s, trapping it against his arm. The muscles under Sky’s palm are tense. 

They all look worried. Serious. Not quite meeting his eyes. Sky thinks they’re afraid for more than his health. No, actually, he’s sure of it. They’re waiting for some kind of negative reaction. 

So Sky gives them his gentlest smile, and summons the strength for a full sentence, searching for something that will ease the tension. What makes it past his lips is, “The name Four makes so much sense now.”

The force of Blue’s snort bobs Sky’s head forward. Red ducks his chin to hide his smile, Green lets out a quick little "hah!", and Vio’s shoulders relax. The soft upturn of his lips lingers on Sky’s face as he looks at them, studying them. The longer he does so, the more differences he can see, the more individual they seem. He can see his friend in all of them.

"You don't have any questions?" Vio watches him still, more wary than Green or Red. 

"Of course I do." Pause to breathe. "But I only want to know what you're comfortable telling me." Red bites his lip, and they all exchange glances. That's what he thought. "My curiosity can wait." Sky says this as firmly as he can manage, then distracts them all by sitting forward. Four pairs of hands reach out to steady him. They continue to hover even as he proves himself capable of maintaining a kneeling position under his own power. 

“Thank you, I’m all right now.” 

“If that’s true, we should get moving again. Think you can stand?” 

Right. They still have to make it back to the forge. 

“Not much choice here, Green.”

“Wasn’t talking to you, Blue.” 

“Take your time.” That's Red again. He's put away the fire rod but hasn’t moved out of Sky’s personal space. 

The last thing Sky wants to do is keep walking. He wishes he'd elected to find some corner to just take a nap in while the others finished their shopping. But the thought of doing so in this cold when the warm forge was an option... 

He really should have chosen to spend the day at the forge. It would have avoided so much trouble. Too late to take back the decision now. 

The others. The others are in town and they don’t know how close they are to danger. ”The others!” Sky hobbles to his feet, breathing strained. Vio and Green and Blue grab at his arms and waist to help him up. Red follows them to his feet, worry clear on his expressive face. 

Violet straightens his spine. He nudges Red aside, taking his place directly in front of Sky and squeezing both of Sky's arms until Sky gives him his full attention. “They’re more equipped to deal with threats that we are. There are seven of them. They’re all armed and in good health.” Unlike Sky. His face burns. “The best thing we can do is get someplace safe to regroup.”

The bottom half of his sailcloth and trousers are soaked with melting snow. So are Blue’s. The air hasn’t grown any warmer, and Sky hasn’t gotten any less ill. He knows they’re right. It still rankles. 

“Come on, Sky,” Red says, more gently. “We’re almost to the forge. Let’s get home and we can figure out what to do from there.” There’s no choice. Not really. Sky’s shoulders slump. 

Blue turns away from them, resettling his sword. “I’m going to check the woods. There may be more.”

“Don’t engage if there’s too many.”

“I’m not stupid, Vio.”

“We’ll meet you at home,” Green heads off the budding argument. 

So begins the last leg of their trudging march down the road. Red fills the air with mindless chatter. “When we get back we’ll sit by the fire, and Grandpa can make us something warm. Maybe some cucco broth. Broth is good when you’re sick. Grandpa used to give it to us all the time.” Red is utterly transparent in his worry. Sky can’t fault him, not when he feels far too terrible to even try to hide the fact that he's barely staying on his feet. He wishes briefly for Twilight or Warriors, spends a terrible moment missing Groose. Someone big enough to really lean on. He has a hand on Red’s shoulder and Vio keeps a firm grip on the back of his belt. They take his weight as best they can. Green leads the way with his sword in hand. 

The trek is painfully slow. Sky hears the worry spike in Red’s voice every time he has to stop, even as he assures Sky that it’s okay, we’ve got all the time in the world, don’t push yourself, I can warm the air for you again…

Sky takes him up on it once. Better the humiliation of needing a break on a short, easy walk than risk an attack of his breath again. 

It’s been a long time since Sky was as glad to lay eyes on a place as he is to see the sturdy stone building of the forge come into view. The thatch roof is white under a blanket of snow. Smoke curls lazy trails towards the clouds, promising reprieve from the cold. Green jogs ahead to open the door. Warm air spills out onto the stoop. 

Blue slips out from between the trees as they approach. He shakes his head at Green’s questioning look. 

Inside, they shed their coats and wet shoes. Sky toes his boots off without bending over, leaning against the wall for support. He’s not sure he’d be able to bring himself to stand again if he sits down now. He plucks at his overtunic and mail with sluggish fingers. The temptation to simply fall onto the couch and go to sleep as he is is strong, but the chain has soaked up all the cold from outdoors and the sodden end of the sailcloth is dripping a puddle on the floor. 

Blue decides for him, giving him a fearsome scowl. “You. Armor. Off.”

Grandpa Smith comes into the room, likely drawn by the ruckus of their unexpected early return. He gives them all a swift once over, appearing completely unsurprised to see his grandson in multiple bodies. “I’d listen to him, son. You look like you’re about to topple over.” 

Never let it be said that Sky ignores his elders. He unpins his brooch, carefully folding the sailcloth as Grandpa Smith gives all of Four’s disparate parts solid hugs. “I wondered when I would get to see you boys. Something happen on the road?” 

“We were attacked.”

“By monsters from outside this era.”

“Please be careful if you leave the forge, Grandpa.”

“At least until we’re sure we’ve gotten them all.”

“I’ll keep my guard up, boys, don’t you worry.” Smith seems to take the warning seriously. He gives Red an extra hug and a solemn nod to the rest. 

“I’m going back to warn the others and tell Zelda that the monsters are closer than either of us realized.” 

Sky startles at Green’s words, pausing in the process of pulling off his gloves. “Going back? What if there are more of them?”

Blue and Violet treat him to simultaneous eye rolls. It would be funny if Sky weren’t distracted by worry. “It's clear for now. I looked.” Blue reminds him. “Or did you think ‘checking the woods’ meant 'frolicking through the snow with my head in the clouds?'”

Green shoves at Blue's shoulder. “I’ll wear the pegasus boots. If there are any monsters left, they’ll have to catch me.”

Sky still doesn’t like the idea of Four, or any individual part of him, going right back out onto the road alone. They’re fresh from a fight with a large group of monsters where there should have been none. But Green knows his own abilities, and Grandpa Smith is right there, and this is not Sky’s call to make. 

“If you're sure.”

Green nods and disappears up the stairs towards his room. Presumably he’s gone to get those pegasus boots. The other three linger. They’re all watching Sky closely, crowding the entry and making Sky acutely aware of every movement he makes. He gets his gloves off without too much trouble, but the buckle on his baldric fights against his clumsy fingers. He can feel the tips of his ears going red. 

“Why don’t you go stoke up the fire, boys.” Blue, Red, and Vio scatter at Grandpa Smith’s command. Sky is suddenly alone amongst a sea of shed coats and snow-covered boots. He slumps against the wall. He only needs to rest his eyes. Just for a moment.

“Let me help you with that, son.” Sky twitches. He thought Smith had followed his grandsons. Grandpa Smith fixes him with the exact same kind of look that Zelda’s father used to. Sky can't resist it here any more than he can at home. He takes a seat on the simple wooden chair that Smith pats in invitation, body deflating as he does so. His eyelids droop almost immediately. Expert fingers work the buckle at his shoulder, now that it’s at a height Smith can actually reach. Sky ducks his head automatically as the sword and sheath are lifted from him. Words of caution and protest die on his lips as he sees the careful way Smith handles the blade. He gives it the same care Sky himself would. Of course. He is a master blacksmith. Four learned his respect for a fine weapon from somewhere. 

“Don’t draw her,” he still feels the need to warn. 

“I know a magic blade when I see one, young man, don’t you worry.” Smith sets Fi aside, helps Sky divest himself of the rest of his outer layers with well practiced professionalism. 

Midway through, Green comes back into the room. His snow boots have been exchanged for a pair that look remarkably similar to Legend’s and he has on a coat of plain brown rather than the forest green of his namesake. Dressed like that he’ll easily pass as Four. He hugs his grandfather again and leaves. A wash of cool air swirls into the room as the door closes behind him. 

Sky can’t help the deep sigh of relief when his chainmail is lifted up and off, Smith draping it carefully over his arm. 

“There now, that’s much better. Now you can have a proper lie down. Go join Blue on the couch. Anything I can get for you, son?”

Sky shakes his head. “I just need rest.” He reaches for his chainmail, intending to put it away. He can’t very well leave his clothes and armor strewn all over the entryway. Smith redirects him, getting a hand under his elbow and using it to help him out of the chair, turning him towards the hearth. “Go warm up, young man. I’ll take care of all this.”

Sky stands there, blinking dumbly as Smith gathers his things and carries them out of the room. The fire crackles. The sun still shines through the room’s two windows, but the yellow light of the flames make the room feel close and cozy. Sky watches the way soft shadows dance on the walls. Vio kneels on the bare stone of the hearth with a fire poker, squabbling with Blue over the best way to arrange the logs. 

A tug on his hand. Sky looks down. Red’s eyes are the same warm amber of the flames. “Come sit down, Sky.”

Blue is already seated at the end of the couch closest to the fire. Sky lowers himself to the cushions with some distance between them, a relieved groan escaping him. Red tosses a throw pillow aimed at Blue's face. He catches it with an annoyed grunt, setting it on his lap instead. The lighthearted antics makes the room feel safe, and Sky relaxes further. 

Blue reaches up and tugs at Sky’s collar. He resists the pull, blinking at Blue in confusion. Vio leaves the fireside, coming over to scoop up Sky’s ankles as Blue says “Lie down, you idiot.” Oh. Sky goes along with their directing. He winds up with his head on the pillow over Blue’s lap and his knees in a loose curl down the rest of the cushions. Vio helps Red spread a blanket over him, then the two of them pile on top of each other at the far end of the couch. Their legs drape over Sky’s, pinning him in place. It’s warm and close and comforting. Sky’s chest is elevated enough that breathing still comes as easily as it ever does on the Surface. The snap and crackle of the flames is a soothing white noise in the background. 

Grandpa Smith returns from whatever he was doing with Sky’s belongings. He'll need to ask about that. Later. Smith settles himself in the room’s only other cushioned chair. “Tell what you’ve been up to, boys.” 

It feels like he should be sitting up for this, trying to participate in the conversation. Before Sky can get self-conscious, one of Blue’s hands settles on his shoulder. Red and Vio remain where they are when he tugs at his feet. One of them squeezes Sky's ankle, rubbing their thumb over the bone. He follows the unspoken order and remains as he is.

“We’ve met so many new people! It’s been such fun!”

Blue snorts. “Pain in the ass, more like.”

“It has been quite the learning opportunity. The changes in smithing techniques through the eras are fascinating.”

The conversation turns to a chronicle of their adventure thus far as told by master blacksmiths to a master blacksmith. It soon goes over Sky’s head, in no small part because he’s rapidly falling asleep. It doesn’t take long before the weight and warmth and soft murmur of conversation blur together, and he’s gone. 

△ △ △

Sky is woken some time later by many feet trying and failing to be quiet. The rest of the group is back, all of them shuffling around each other. The forge’s tiny main room grows smaller with the sounds of eight people shedding boots and coats and the rest of their gear. 

The weight of bodies piled around him is gone, Sky’s upper half elevated by what feels like a small mountain of pillows instead. He doesn’t move, drifting, listening as his mind slowly regains awareness of the world around him.

Grandpa Smith’s gruff voice greets his houseguests with far more care for his volume that they are managing. 

“How is he?” That’s Time.

“All right. Resting.”

“Thank you for looking after him.”

“I had plenty of practice playing nursemaid with my grandson. Your Sky is a model patient by comparison.”

Four - Green? - makes a sound of protest. 

“Link,” Smith addresses his grandson, “Go put your things back up in the bedroom, the entry is getting crowded.” Green’s footsteps disappear up the stairs. “Now then!” Smith’s voice shifts, becoming brisk and parental. “Let’s see your new gear.” There is an instant increase in volume as the returning heroes clamor to show off their finds. 

Sky blinks his eyes open. The sun has moved, the room now much more dimly lit. It must be nearing evening. The fire has been maintained while he was out. A bucket of melting snow has been placed near Sky’s head, between the couch and the fire, keeping the air from becoming too dry. He takes a deep breath, relieved at the ease of it. His stomach is still unsettled, but some things can’t be helped. He flexes his fingers, stretches out his legs. 

Warriors comes over as Sky shifts and sits up, moving slow. “Feeling better?” 

Sky hums in affirmation. 

More footsteps on the stairs announce Four’s return. Sky looks him over, can’t quite tell if it’s really Four this time or still Green alone. He thinks maybe it’s all of them. Four gives him a secretive smile, lingering with the group by the door. 

Definitely all of them. 

Warriors settles onto the couch beside him. “We found you a warmer undertunic. Had to use Twilight for sizing, hopefully it fits.”

“Thank you.”

Warriors is giving him a careful look over. “Are you sure you’re alright? Four told us what happened on the road. We're going to go after the monsters at first light.”

“I handled this kind of thing by myself on my own adventure,” Sky reminds him. 

Warriors sighs. He slouches on the couch, drops his head onto the back of it to stare up at the ceiling. “I know, and I don’t like to think of it any more than I like to think how our youngest members are also some of our most experienced.”

“I’m fine, Wars.”

Four wanders over to them. “Wind wants to show us a dice game.”

“Wind?” Warriors chuckles. “Better make sure those dice aren’t loaded if we’re going to be playing with his.”

“Fuck you, Wars!” Wind retorts with good cheer. 

Sky holds out his hands. Four grabs them, helps heave him to his feet. There’s a relaxed set to his shoulders, the mischief of a shared secret when Sky meets his eyes. 

“I’m not going to enjoy this dice game, am I.” Wind cheats. Warriors cheats. Legend and Four and Time all cheat. Sky has never been good at cheating; he can’t keep up when they play. 

Four laughs. “Probably not, but you’ll enjoy the company.”

“That I will,” Sky has to admit. “That I will.”


End file.
